“The story is always better than your ability to write it.” — Robin McKinley
My friend Reagin arrived on Friday night for three reasons:
We’ll get to the third later and the first isn’t important for these purposes. But the Prince Tribute band. That is important.
We had to slip out of the alumni dinner a bit early (just after we’d eaten dinner and I’d been announced) so we could get to Indianapolis before it was too late. Mind you, we still arrived at The Vogue Nightclub (see my Yelp review here) at 10:15 pm. Which is ridiculously late for the two of us.
We were each, I believe, hoping the other would insist we were simply too tired to go out.
But we didn’t back out because we’re troopers. And it’s good to get out and do things every once in awhile.
I’ll tell you a couple things about the night.
The Vogue Nightclub is one badass place to see a show. Honestly, it’s a great little venue that reminds me of some of the places I used to haunt (on occasion) in San Francisco.
I totally dug the second floor, where I could listen and watch without being stuck in the middle of the chaos. Had we arrived earlier, we’d have snagged one of the first floor booth areas.
I wasn’t a huge fan of the smoke (although I’m trying not to be that ex-smoker guy). Particularly this morning when I awoke to a raging sore throat and headache.
I’m amazed at how well my body responded to the old days of living hard.
Had we had a little more rest – neither of us caught much of a nap because of all the running – I’d have danced my ass off to Prince. (Or Prince Tribute as I referred to them.) It wasn’t a great tribute band, but it was a good show. They had some choreographed movement on stage and the backing music was solid. Enough to transport me back to middle and high school.
It was even worth the sore throat.